Confessions of a Seminarian

Stargazers and white lilies…

…with red accent roses, were the flowers in my sister’s wedding bouquet.

When I consider the depth of meaning of my sister’s wedding bouquet and the way I feel when I gaze upon a simple rose, I am blown away by the thought of God’s glory. The same occurs when I take in the stars and all that they shout at me as I feel so small and insignificant when compared to the night-time sky.

They twinkle, they shine, and they glow; stars amaze me and make my jaw drop in wonder. I live in the country and every single night, I take a moment, even if it’s cold, and try to catch a glimpse at the splendor that laughingly blazes above me. I love to drive my car on the windy roads near my house past the field of cows and corn, because the sky creates the perfect backdrop and it beckons me to come watch, to take in the wonder, and to be amazed. Often, I find myself out in the middle of my driveway after I get home at night whispering praises and quoting this verse:

“The heavens tell of the glory of God. The skies display his marvelous craftsmanship. Day after day, they continue to speak; night after night, they continue to make him known. They speak without a sound. Their voice is silent in the skies, yet their message has gone out to all of the earth, and their words to all of the world.”

-Psalm 19:1-4, NLT

The stars are like a newspaper trumpeting the news of God’s glory. They are like mimes, like silent movies: they cannot speak, yet they communicate so much with such grace and beauty. I love how delicate they are and how gently they remind me.

The apostle Paul says that we have no excuse for not knowing about God, that he reveals himself plainly enough through the beauty of his creation (Romans 1:19-20). It surrounds us. How could we miss it?

And yet often we do.

I worked at a summer camp for three summers in California. I wondered for the longest time what a girl from small-town Missouri would be able to offer to a group of way cool, hip-hop infused teenagers from inner-city L.A. It was the stars. I wish now that I had asked my campers what they thought the stars were saying, because I believe now that they were surely saying something. I really wonder what my campers were able to hear– some maybe for the first time.

Perhaps even though I am from a small town, I could and should listen more carefully, admire more sincerely, and pay attention to the way that God so beautifully reminds me (and all of us) of his perfect majesty. A sea of wordless glories swirling around me constantly by day and by night, ever so silently, yet so presently abundant with messages to share and secrets to tell.